


What the Mrs. Wants

by tomridswhorcrux



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Aristocracy, Character Death, Consensual Infidelity, Dresses, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fire, Infertility, Infidelity, Loss of Virginity, Love Triangles, Major Character Injury, Major Illness, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Mental Breakdown, Miscarriage, Relationship(s), Ron Weasley Bashing, Scandal, Sexual Content, Shopping, Suicide, Suicide Notes, Victorian, merchant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-20 10:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30003630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomridswhorcrux/pseuds/tomridswhorcrux
Summary: The night of the Great Fire of London in 1866, as eighteen-year-old Hermione watches the flames consume what was the up-and-coming town of Hampstead, she can’t imagine how much her life and her city are about to change. Nor can she guess that the agent of that change will not simply be the fire, but more so the man she meets that night and how she can’t seem to stay away from him and the scandals they cause.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson/Harry Potter, Theodore Nott/Harry Potter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for wanting to read my story! Here are some lil disclaimers and warnings for before we start.  
> This fic is inspired by _What the Lady Wants_ by Renee Rosen, which I highly recommend you read.  
> This fic contains the following contents/triggers (also check the tags as well!). If you can’t handle these topics I encourage you to not read.  
> -Suicide (I will put extra TW’s on the parts that contain this content, but other than that there will be no extra TW’s throughout the fic)  
> -Sexually explicit content  
> -Character death  
> -Miscarriage  
> *Great Fire of London occurs in 1866 instead of 1666  
> Now, onto the story! I hope you enjoy and happy reading!

~1866~  
**S** he supposed she fell in love with him at the same time the rest of Hampstead did. The fire raged on and on for two days before ceasing. Razing everything in its path. Mansions, businesses, and slums all burned the same until nothing was left but ash and debris. In the aftermath of the flames, few came forward to help rebuild the city. One of those few was Draco Malfoy.

The day before the fire, Hermione Granger and her sister, Hannah Granger, went out on the streets of town down to Granger & Company. Their father was one of the greatest businessmen in London, owning one of the largest dry-goods companies in the whole country. They had moved to Hampstead in the fifties when all that was there was grassland and water that had fish swimming about.

Now, as Hermione and Hannah roamed the streets, there were dry goods stores left and right. New ones seemed to be popping up everyday, adding onto what their father created. Once they reached the store, the doorman greeted them and let them inside.

There was everything you could ask for at Granger & Company. If you wanted golf clubs, they had it. Hair combs? They had that too. Hermione went straight to the section of combs, Hannah breaking off from her to go look at the new shipment of fans their father had recently received from Paris.

Hermione plucked through the assortment of combs, seeing ones adorned with jewels, and others with ribbons. She found one that she thought would go perfectly with her dress for tomorrow night, it was gold with emeralds lining the edges. Once she had the comb in her hand, Hermione found Hannah holding a new fan and parasol.

“Are you ready?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, the new shipment is absolutely exquisite. You should’ve checked it out,” Hannah smiled.

“You know I prefer the Milan-made fans over the ones from Paris.” 

The sisters laughed until they reached the door. Another doorman bade them a good day before pushing the door open for them to exit.

 **H** ermione was sat at her vanity preparing for the grand opening party for The Zabini House. The hotel was a wedding present for Ginny, who was one of Hannah’s, and her, best friends. Although Hannah and Ginny were always close—they were both two years her senior—Hermione had developed a close relationship with Ginny over the past year, even closer than Ginny and Hannah.

Her maid, Cho, helped Hermione into her emerald green gown which was fitted with a matching velvet trim. Hermione wanted to make a good first impression, as this was her first party she would attend after being introduced to the society earlier in October, so she had decided on this gown that Madame Malkin designed for her last spring at the annual Granger-sisters fashion trip to France. Once her corset was laced up and her skirts all in place, Cho went to help Hannah get ready. Hermione grabbed the hair comb she got the day before and placed it in her hair. Cho’s handiwork with her mane never ceased to amaze her. After all these years, she still had little clue on how to put her hair up by herself, all she could do was add the finishing touches.

“Well, what do you think?” Hannah said from Hermione’s doorway. Hermione turned to face her sister and her mouth formed into a smile. Her sister had on a perfectly tailored navy gown that had silver embroidery all down the bodice. Hannah had her blonde hair pinned up with a matching navy and silver hair comb, as well as the fan she had grabbed the other day.

Hermione always envied her sister's tame hair. The soft, straight, blonde strands effortlessly did whatever was asked of them. While Hannah wasn’t Hermione’s biological sister, they shared a sisterly bond nonetheless. When Hermione was all but one, Hannah’s parents had gotten into a carriage accident and passed away. Hannah was barely three and Mr. Granger, being Hannah’s godfather, adopted her that day.

“Why, I love it! And I think Neville will as well,” Hermione cheered, getting up to hug Hannah.

“Look at you!” Hannah said, pushing her arms back to look at Hermione.

“Well, we are the Grangers after all. New gowns for all occasions!”

The pair chuckled until their mother called for them, threatening to have them walk if they didn’t get to the carriage soon. They raced down the stairs, their dresses rustled, and their heels clip-clopped as they made their way to the front door. Their butler, Fred, held the door open for the girls, wishing them a good evening. They reached the carriage and, no more than five minutes late, the Grangers were en route to The Zabini House.

“You finally made it!” Ginny said as Hermione and Hannah stepped through the doors of The Zabini House.

The girls all shared a brief hug before Neville found Hannah and whisked her away to dance. Ginny and Hermione took a seat at one of the tables draped with a white tablecloth. The inside of The Zabini house was gorgeous. It was the best hotel Hermione had seen in all her life, and she had been to every country's finest hotels.

The ceilings were at least 6 meters tall. She was unsure how the builders had managed to get such a tall building to stand. On the walls there were white and gold filigree designs as well as crown molding. The theme of The Zabini House was white, gold, and red. Ginny told Hermione how Blaise tried to get her to change the coloring to green, but she wouldn’t budge. No matter that Ginny was a lady, she had the fire and passion to rival all the men on Hampstead High Street.

“Thank you,” Hermione and Ginny said as a butler in a white and gold suit placed two flutes of champagne in front of them. Hermione looked around the room, seeing many women in their finest gowns, but knowing that underneath that fine top layer, they were wearing last year's pannier crinolines. A beautiful piece of clothing, but an outdated one, nonetheless. The Granger girls were known for their sense of style and fashion, never wearing the same outfit two seasons in a row. 

Hermione’s eyes shifted to the newspapermen who, whilst looking at her, jotted notes down onto notepads. Hannah had told her about her run-ins with the press, as the Granger girls were a part of the high society, nothing they did went unnoticed by the press. And now that Hermione was in her season, the newspaper men were all too excited to see her and her potential suitors.

“And to think people said I shouldn’t marry Blaise just because he’s sixteen years my senior,” Ginny laughed, motioning around to the grand hotel he had built for her as a wedding present.

“You know that that was _until_ they saw the hotel,” Hermione chuckled.

“They're just jealous they couldn’t pull a Zabini,” Ginny said, flipping her hair back behind her shoulders. The pair giggled and as the bulk of the guests had arrived, Ginny introduced Hermione to many of them. Since she was a part of the society, she would have to know all these names and faces eventually. Hermione curtseyed before many men and women, as many did before her. She couldn’t remember any of the faces or names after they had left her presence. Well, all except for one.

“Mr. Draco Malfoy,” Ginny said with a motion of her hand, “may I present, Miss Hermione Granger.”

Hermione dipped into a light curtsy as Mr. Malfoy did a slight bow.

“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Granger. May I ask, are you related to the Granger of Granger & Company?” Mr. Malfoy asked with a quirk of his brow.

“Why, yes, I am. That Granger just happens to be my father. Don’t tell him I said this, but I do have to say that I love my fair share of Weasley, Malfoy, & Company,” Hermione said, slightly whispering the last part so that only Mr. Malfoy could hear.

Mr. Malfoy let out a chuckle and Hermione couldn’t help but smile with him. She took note of his piercing grey eyes, his fair complexion, his platinum hair, and the slight age lines on his face. Although he didn’t show his age too well, Hermione guessed he had to be roughly fifteen years her senior. Ginny said a pleasant goodbye to the pair before running off to greet the rest of her guests.

Hermione and Mr. Malfoy had delightful conversation, speaking of topics from what fabrics are best suited for winter wear, to how Mr. Malfoy could improve his store for a better shopping experience. 

“What’s all the commotion about?” Hermione asked, pointing to a group of guests who were crowded at a window.

“I’m unsure, but we should let them be. I never understood gossip and reveling in others suffering.”

Hermione smiled in agreement, taking another sip from her champagne glass. 

“I know it's impolite to ask a lady her age, but exactly how _young_ are you?” 

Hermione chuckled at his wording of the question, confirming her suspicion that he was older than her, that Ginny would later reconfirm.

“Eighteen, fresh off into my season,” Hermione joked.

“Oh to be—“ Mr. Malfoy started before they heard an explosion.

“What was—“

“ _FIRE_.” The pair heard someone shout. Hermione grabbed onto Mr. Malfoy’s lapels as people flocked to the windows. Hermione saw a slight tinge of orange to the night sky and heard a slight roaring of flames.

“We best get out of here,” Mr. Malfoy said, taking hold of Hermione’s arm and ushering the both of them to the nearest exit. The other guests seemed to have had the same idea at the same time. All of them running to the nearest exits, a few even breaking the windows to be able to escape quicker. In this frenzy, Hermione felt Mr. Malfoy’s grip leave her arm.

“Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Malfoy!” Hermione shouted, losing sight of the platinum haired man and his touch. She Frantically searched around for Hannah or her parents, even Nevillie or Ginny for God sakes. She’d spotted neither and was now outside. There were many coaches speeding down the dirt road, but Hermione still had no sight of any familiar faces.

 **H** ermione walked north, following the path of other carriages. Her feet ached in her shoes, the heels she wore dug into the soft earth. Every few steps Hermione looked up to see if she could spot her fathers black coach with silver trimming and matching jet-black stallions, but all she ever saw was worn black carriages with brown horses. 

Hermione kept up her pace as the fire roared behind her. She felt the heat of the flames at her back, even though they were kilometers away. The fire was quickly gaining and Hermione was tired, hungry, and thirsty. She felt the boning of her corset stab at her ribs with every breath she took, the comb in her hair prodding at her scalp. 

She wanted to remove her shoes and unpin her hair, but she wanted to hold onto what little she had, not knowing how the fire would have affected her family home. She considered leaving her shawl to the flames as well as the heat seeped into her skin and sweat glistened her features. 

“Hermione! Thank God,” Hermione heard her father say as she was scooped up and dragged into a carriage, her fathers carriage. 

“Why in the Lord's name did you stray from us, young lady?” Mr. Granger scolded.

Hermione was curled up in Hannah’s arms, slightly shaking and breathing heavily as she finally got to rest her feet. “Father, just be thankful that she’s safe, not many others are as lucky,” Hannah said back to her father. Hannah was always one to use her voice when she saw it fit, knowing how Mr. Granger would never disown her.

“F-Father, what about our house?” Hermione asked, as she tried her best to sit up in the coach. 

“What of it? Our house will be more than fine. These wood structures stand no chance, but our limestone house is more than fireproof. There is nothing to worry about, ‘Mione.”

Hermione hoped what her father said would be true, she couldn’t stand to think what they would do if their house burnt down. All they had was in there. Her collection of books. Hannah’s array of parasols and fans. Her fathers study full of business plans and records for Granger & Company. Her mothers set of fine china that she had received from her mother as a wedding present.

What of their servants? Cho? Fred? The kitchen staff? She hoped they could get out in time if the fire reached Frognal and Fitzjohn’s Avenue.

Mrs. Granger comforted Hermione, sensing her thoughts were going sour. She whispered sweet nothings into her daughters ear as Hermione succumbed to sleep and exhaustion.

 **T** wo days later, the fire was put out. One of the Grangers jet-black stallions passed due to overheating and exhaustion. The one horse wasn’t enough to pull the carriage, so Hannah and Mrs. Granger road on the lone stallion, whilst their coachman guided the animal. Hermione’s father told her to take Hannah's place on the horse, but Hermione insisted that she walk.

They passed down Hampstead High Street on their way to Frognal and Fitzjohn’s Avenue. Hermione’s jaw dropped as she saw what was left of the dry goods street. Granger & Company was all but rubble, splashes of torn fabric and ladies wear was the only color of the scene. The Grangers kept on their way until Hermione saw a sign:

WEASLEY, MALFOY, & COMPANY  
CASH BOYS AND WORK GIRLS WILL BE PAYED. WHAT IS DUE THEM ON OCTOBER 12th, 1866

Hermione’s hand flew to her chest. She couldn’t believe that this sign was all that was left of Weasley, Malfoy, & Company. Beyond the sign she saw fans, broken and bent, and hats with bent rims and ash-stained prints. Her father pulled her along and all she could think of was how the famous Weasley, Malfoy, & Company became all but dust and ash within days.

The Grangers turned down Frognal and Fitzjohn’s Avenue and Mr. Granger stopped in his tracks. The whole street was nothing but debris. Hermione couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her mother let out a choked sob and Hannah did her best to comfort her mother. Hannah was no stranger to destruction, holding the face of a warrior through thick and thin.

They rushed to what was left of their supposedly fireproof limestone home. Hermione stepped around in the rubble trying to figure out what used to be her bedroom, what was the kitchen, her fathers study. She found a stray copper measuring cup that she’d never seen before. She took it in her hands and held it to her chest in a hug. She had no clue whether the measuring cup had belonged to her or one of her neighbors, but she could care less. It was the only thing left and she’d be damned if she let go. 

She cradled the copper metal in her grasp, rocking on her aching heels. A tear shed from her eye as she closed them, coming to terms that there was no more than scraps left of her once mansion-style home.

 **I** n the aftermath of the fire, Hermione and her family stayed at a relatives house that was left untouched by the flames. Hannah was beyond nervous for Neville. She’d worried day and night about him. Hoping he was alive and that he’d find and contact her. 

The sounds of construction could be heard outside as houses and businesses were being rebuilt. The saws tearing through wood and profanities singing through the workers' mouths all came as a welcomed bliss to Hermione’s ears.

Hermione had read and read over the past few days, her relatives having a large library full of texts that she hadn’t seen before. Her mother always thought that her education was an unworthy pastime, she should be focused on housewarming skills. Learning how to entertain for her future family, how to be a good host, and utmost skills in etiquette. Her father was always a proponent of his daughters getting an education. He felt that it was his duty to provide the best life he could for his girls, and he would indulge whatever they had desired.

Her parents had made a compromise on her education, she could stay in school until she became fifteen, and from then on her mother would be in charge of her learning. Trading arithmetic for hosting and literature for ballroom dancing. Even with this arrangement, her father had always bought her books for her birthday and Christmas, much to her mother’s dismay. But Mrs. Grangers love for Mr. Granger outshined her need to have the perfect daughter, so she unwillingly relented.

Hermione took her eyes off from her formal books and picked up the day's copy of _The Pall Mall Gazette_. She glanced down at the front page headline in large, black print, and she smiled at what she read:

WEASLEY, MALFOY, & COMPANY REOPENING ON THE END OF HAMPSTEAD HIGH STREET

Hermione was in awe at the fact that Mr. Malfoy had already got his company up and running again. Even her father, who was a very astute businessman, was _months_ away from rebuilding and reopening Granger & Company.

“Hannah!” Hermione beamed as she stepped into her sisters room.

“What has you all excited?” Hannah smiled, placing her needle point onto her side table..

“Weasley, Malfoy, & Company reopened!”

“Already?”

“Yes! We have to go. Get ready, or I’m leaving without you,” Hermione giggled as she left to her room to get ready for a day out on the town. Cho helped the sisters get ready into their clothes that they had graciously borrowed from their relatives. Hermione and Hannah were in desperate need of new fashions, and until they could get to France in the spring, they would have to make do with the local dressmakers and dry-goods stores.

Once Hermione and Hannah were ready, they headed off to Hampstead High Street. They came to the end of the dirt road and all they saw wasa barn. A few other ladies in fancy looking gowns were around them. Hermione, sensing they were all here for the same purpose, asked one of the ladies, “ Is this Weasley, Malfoy, & Company?”

“It is! It isn't much on the outside, but I promise the inside is very much worth it. I won’t keep you, go take your spots in line,” the lady said with a cheery smile.

Hermione and Hannah looked up to the barn and saw a line of ladies out the door and around the sides of the barn. They walked towards the structure and Hermione spotted Mr. Malfoy. His eyes drifted up from the line of ladies to the two of them before he walked over to them.

“Miss Granger! Who do you have here?” Mr. Malfoy asked, giving a slight bow to the pair.

Hermione introduced Mr. Malfoy to Hannah, and he let them both into the ‘store’ immediately. As the sisters stepped inside they saw what the lady earlier meant about the inside. The floors were a polished, light wood and the ceiling had crystal chandeliers hanging from them. There were a few workers, all dressed in formal black attire, on the floor. They were helping customers and organizing the goods for sale.

Hermione and Hannah first headed over to a rack of dresses. Sifting through the bundles of fabric before taking the ones they liked the best. Hermione and Hannah were impressed by the design of them.  
They all came bundled together with the matching corset, skirt, and under layers. 

Once they had grabbed the dresses they wanted, they headed to the accessories section. While they were picking out various fans, parasols, and hair combs, Hermione spotted Mr. Malfoy at the front of the store greeting customers with a smile. Hermione couldn’t help but smile herself. The man’s optimism and energy was contagious. Even after the death and destruction of the fire, he was able to bring his company back together with a smile on his face. 

Hermione remembered Ginny telling her that Draco was thirty-one—fifteen years her senior. But that was completely besides the point, Hermione had still found that there was something special about Draco Malfoy. Something very special.

 **T** he Granger sisters were at a local tailors, getting themselves new dresses. Hermione had drawn up a few designs the week before, and now they were in front of her. Hermione was an avid lover of fashion, she loved being included in the whole process, and while her designs were nothing in comparison to Madame Malkins, they would do for the time being.

“Make sure to use the lace trim and silver thread on the bodice,” Hermione said to the tailor as she pinned and marked Hermione’s dress. 

Hermione caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and was upset at what she saw. It had nothing to do with the dress, no, it had everything to do with how all of Hermione’s concerns were on the trimming and thread colors of her gowns whilst there were homeless people all out on the streets of Hampstead.

Once they had finished at the tailors, Hermione went straight to the nearby church where they were doing a clothing drive.

“Are you sure you want to be here?” one of the ladies at the church asked.

“Yes, I want to help all that I can.”

“You’re a Granger girl, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then, you can start over there,” the lady starts, pointing to a laundry basket full of shoes, “place the shoes in matching order and know that you can leave whenever you like.”

 **A** fter helping at the church for three weeks straight, Hermione took a day off from her charity work to accompany Hannah and Neville to the Zabini’s estate. She chose to wear a red gown with a square neckline and lace trimmings, and her hair was pinned up artfully by Cho. Hermione met Hannah and Neville in the entryway before climbing into a carriage and heading to the Zabini estate. 

“Welcome! Welcome!,” Ginny said as the Grangers and lone Longbottom made their way through the Zabini Estates grand entryway. Hermione and Hannah both hugged Ginny, and Neville shook hands with Blaise. Once the two parties had said their welcomes, they ventured into the parlor. Sitting on the couch was Theodore Nott and Harry Potter. Hermione had known Theodore for most of her life, but hadn’t seen him in a long while.

Theodore was the son of Mr. and Mrs. Theodore Nott. Mr. Nott was a well known and rich judge, living on the same street of Frognal and Fitzjohn’s Avenue. Mrs. Nott was a well known member of the society, a perfect housewife and mother to her only son.

The friends all mingle until Harry proposes that the men should play a game of poker. The men then depart to the drawing room, leaving Hermione, Hannah, and Ginny in the parlor. Ginny pours each of them a drink before they return to conversation.

“What do you think of the young Nott?” Ginny smirked.

“Why, I don’t remember him being so handsome,” Hermione blushed.

“He is a Nott, after all,” Hannah joked.

The girls continued to talk about their respective husbands, suitors, and male companions until they grew bored and wanted to see how the men’s game of poker went. “Neville is horrible at gambling, I do hope they are only playing with chips,” Hannah chuckled to Hermione.

“Mrs. Zabini, Mr. and Mrs. Draco Malfoy have arrived,” the Zabini’s butler said as the trio headed to the drawing room.

Hermione is a little disappointed when she hears Mrs. tacked onto Draco’s name. She hadn’t known that he was married and wanted to know more about this Mrs. to see how the lucky lady wooed the Malfoy Merchant.

“And so we meet again, Miss Granger,” Draco said with a slight upturn of his lips.

“And so we do, Mr. Malfoy,” Hermione said with a slight curtsy.

“Please, call me Drake. Or better yet, Draco.”

“But only if you call me ‘Mione. Or better yet, Hermione.”

The pair laughed in agreement, both said how they prefer their legal names to the nicknames they had been given. Hermione felt Mrs. Malfoy’s eyes on her the moment she said hi to Draco, and even before Ginny had introduced the two to each other.

“This is Drake’s wife, Astoria. She’s from Yorkshire,” said Ginny, “Like me.”

“Hi, I’m Astoria Malfoy, nice to meet you,” Astoria said with a smile.

“I’m Hermione Granger, nice to meet you too.”

As Astoria said her greetings, Hermione sensed her slight Yorkshire accent. Astoria was a beautiful woman. She had soft blonde hair—much like Hannah’s—and blue, doe-eyes. Her slender figure was draped in a dark green Japanese-designed dress. Hermione had yet to venture to Asian fashions, but if Astoria’s dress was any inkling of the styles there, she would have to make a trip to Tokyo and Shanghai next spring. Astoria was from the Greengrass family, her father was a wealthy and successful railroad tycoon down in Yorkshire and her sister was married to Gregory Goyle of The Goyle House.

“Hermione! Astoria is starting a new women’s club soon,” Ginny said with glee as her butler passed out champagne. 

“Oh, yes. You have to join,” Astoria smiled.

“Well then, I guess I’m joining!” Hermione cheered.

As the night progressed, Hermione had found herself liking Astoria. The woman’s grace and slight quirks were all that made you love her more. She could see why Draco married this girl, she was every bit as fiery and passionate as he was.

“Why hello, ladies,” Harry said as the men joined the women and Draco in the entryway.

“Hello, Harry. How was the game?” Hermione asked.

“It went okay. Theo, over here, had the best hand I’ve ever seen.”

“You don’t need to rub it in!” Theo seethed to Harry. The pair both shared a chuckle before returning to the women’s attention. 

“You don’t even need the money, you’re a railroad head for God's sake,” Harry said.

“A railroad head?” Hermione asked.

“Sure am.” Theo replied.

“I would’ve expected you to be a judge, like your father.”

Theo chuckled before speaking, “Practicing law bores me to death, staying out on the lines is much more interesting.”

“What do you do on the lines?” Hermione inquired.

“Nothing much, just train things.”

Hermione felt dismissed by Theo’s answer. She was genuinely interested in what he did for work. But she wouldn’t beg to be taken seriously, so she decided to let the conversation change subject. And the direction it took, she didn’t mind in the least. 

“Would you mind if I called on you?” Tho asked Hermione.

Hermione looked to Harry and then her girlfriends, unsure of how to respond before Harry spoke.

“He won’t stop asking you until you take him up on his offer,” Harry chuckled.

“Well, in that case,” said Hermione, “I would be delighted.”


	2. Chapter 2

~1871~

 **H** ermione Granger married Theodore Nott five years later. Theo courted Hermione for four of those five years before placing a ring on her finger. Hermione was on top of the world. She was marrying her best friend. Hermione couldn’t think of anyone better for her to marry, she loved her time with Theo. There was never a dull moment in their conversation. He was a phenomenal horse rider and breeder, owning a farm down in the countryside. Theo was her favorite person to spend her time with, he tried harder than anyone to make Hermione happy. It didn’t matter what they were doing, Hermione always wanted to do it with Theo.

Hermione and Theo’s wedding was the most anticipated social event of the season. The joining of two powerful and influential families. Hermione had hoped that her wedding would help to shed a better light on Hempstead. Ever since the fire people had viewed the town as improper and unkempt, the addition of an aristocratic wedding would definitely boost the town's reputation.

Whilst Hannah and Neville’s wedding two years prior was a grand affair, it paled in comparison to the grandiose event that was Hermione’s wedding. Newspapermen were lined up on the sidewalks outside of the church, all trying to get a glimpse of the bride adorned in white. Hermione couldn’t wait for her honeymoon in Greece, but she had to first get through the ceremony.

Hermione walked down the aisle arm-in-arm with her father before he gave her off to Theo. She had on a white silk gown, made special by Madame Malkin, with silver, floral embroidery on the bodice and flaring out onto the skirt. The priest officiated their marriage and when their respective rings were slipped onto their left ring fingers, they were pronounced husband and wife.

The reception was held at the Granger estate, the ballroom done up to the nines with Hermione’s pick of gold and Theo’s pick of green. The newlyweds took their places near the door and a line of receivers piled in front of them. With this bond, Hermione’s reputation was raised, the Judge introducing her to members of Parliament.

As the line of receivers moved along, Hermione spotted a flash of bright red hair. She smiled at the thought of _finally_ getting to see someone she knew. Ginny reached the newlyweds, congratulating them on their wedding.

“I can’t believe my best friend _finally_ tied the knot.”

“As you know, it was well worth the wait,” Hermione smiled.

“At least I didn’t make you wait as long as Daphne,” Theo smirked.

“If you made her wait that long I would’ve intervened,” Ginny chuckled.

“Hermione, dear,” Mrs. Nott started from next to her, “the Scamanders are waiting.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was just—“ Hermione said before Mrs. Nott cut her off.

“You can talk to Ginny later, move along now,” Mrs. Nott said, ushering Ginny away. 

Ginny gave a quick and pitiful goodbye before she and Blaise found their seats. Hermione was _never_ good enough for Mrs. Nott. It became clear that once she was engaged to Theo, she would always be number two in his life. His mother would forever hold the top spot. Whatever Hermione did Mrs. Nott met it with a scoff, scowl, or slight frown of pity. 

Mrs. Nott had inquisitions with Hermione about her favorite restaurants, shops, and places to travel. Every answer she gave never seemed good enough for her soon-to-be mother-in-law. Hermione accepted that Mrs. Nott would never be fond of her, but they could at least be civil, well, when talking. Looks, on the other hand, were something entirely different. A slight quirk of the brow, crinkle of the nose, or downturn of the lips left all unsaid out in the open. 

As the receiving line dwindled she spotted Draco and Astoria Malfoy. She hadn’t remembered how tall he was, but he was easily the tallest one there. She could spot his head over the crowd, his top hat forever making him a few centimeters taller—not that he needed the extra illusion of height. Hermione was happy to see Astoria, she looked slightly disheveled, which Hermione didn’t expect, but she thought that it was probably the wind. Astoria was the reason she was in the Highline Club and the Hampstead Women’s Club, so she was grateful that the woman decided to show up.

“Congratulations to you, Mrs. Nott,” Draco smiled, taking his hat off and slightly bowing before her.

Her ears tingled at the sound of Draco’s voice—his being the first one to say her married name, and she quite liked the way his deep timbre dragged on the “o” in Nott. She was at a loss for words when she stared at the Malfoy man. He had a leaner figure, his waistcoat perfectly nipping at the small of his waist and squaring off at the top of his broad shoulders. His blonde hair was perfectly tucked under his hat, light stubble gracing his chin and jawline. His silver-wire framed glasses reflected the chandelier's light, his grey eyes became a focal point of Hermione’s gaze. She sensed her cheeks slightly flushing and tried to pass her thoughts to something—less _distracting._

“Congratulations! We’ll have to have a party for you at the Highline as a Nott now,” Astoria cheered.

Astoria showing up _definitely_ put a damper on her thoughts of Draco. She graciously accepted Astoria’s invitation and the newlyweds moved on to the last of their receivers. As Draco and Astoria walked to their seats, she saw Draco’s eyes linger on her for a moment more and her cheeks turned a tinge of pink.

The newlyweds reception was underway, with an orchestra playing waltzes and guests milling about on the dance floor. Hermione’s dance with the Judge was something she’d rather forget. It was awkward, with his large limbs dragging her across the floor as her feet barely touched the ground. Her dance with Theo, on the other hand, was just wonderful. It was short and sweet with couples around aww-ing at the gesture.

The meal had been served and now it was time for the party.Hermione and her husband were sitting around with their friends, drinking and reminiscing.

“Do you think you’ll settle with this one?” Blaise jeered to Harry.

Harry was known to have a new woman every few months, none of them staying long, and this time, he was in the company of a blonde girl who Hermione had no name on. She was pretty, dressed in a beautiful pink gown, she looked like she was from the society, wearing the newest fashions and her hair done in a perfect updo. She was sitting quietly a few tables over, talking with a few of the Parliament members wives.

“I don’t know, something isn’t right. But I don’t want to crush her like I did the last one,” Harry said, taking a sip of his whiskey.

“Forever a bachelor,” Theo smirked.

“Forever a bachelor,” Harry repeated, mimicking a toast. They all drank to his mock toast, sharing a laugh.

Once the reception concluded, the newlyweds headed to The Zabini House for their wedding night. The newly built hotel was even grander than the last. Hermione had no idea how Blaise did it, but he outdid himself. Every glint of gold was real and every sparkling chandelier draped in diamonds. No expense was spared and Hermione could safely say that The Zabini House was the pinnacle of luxury.

Cho helped her get ready for her husband before leaving to the staff quarters down the hall. Hermione waited in her nightgown and matching stain wrapper. She was anxiously awaiting his arrival, fiddling with the ties and pacing the room. Hannah had briefed her on the marriage act, explaining things her mother would’ve never dared to speak of. Hermione wondered if she would be as lucky as her friend Luna Wood, who got pregnant on her wedding night. 

“Hello, love,” Theo said as he opened the door. He was still wearing his wedding suit, his shirt slightly wrinkled and bow-tie undone. 

He sauntered over to Hermione, closing the door as he did. His footfalls were rough and wobbly, the smell of whiskey permeated the air around him. Theo took Hermione in his arms, his hands lightly caressing her sides. He leaned in and kissed her affectionately and Hermione responded in the same. Her hands fumbled with Theo’s buttons, but he moved the pair towards the bed and her grip slipped. Theo's kisses were hurried and sloppy with the whiskey, and his gestures were clumsy. He gently laid Hermione down onto the bed, her hair falling all around her face.

Hermione wanted to feel Theo’s skin on hers, but he kept his suit on, only fumbling with the buttons on his trousers. He hiked her nightdress up and took a few moments to position himself. Hermione then felt his tip at her heat. With one motion, Theo pressed inside of her, their hips touching. Hermione slightly winced, and as Hannah had told her, he took her virginity. 

Theo began rocking his hips back and forth and Hermione wasn’t prepared for the pain to continue after the initial entry. Theo did not once look at her, speak to her, or kiss her. She considered telling him to stop, but her want of children outweighed the temporary discomfort. Hermione would do anything to have kids of her own, and if it meant going through this, she would do it in a heartbeat. 

Theo then abruptly stopped his motions and fell beside her. Hermione looked up at the ceiling, she wasn’t sure what to do or say. Was that it? Hannah had told her that the marriage act could bring her to tears, and all Hermione felt was strangely cold and alone. Nothing of the joy that Hannah and some of her other friends spoke of. 

“I definitely shouldn't have had that last brandy with Harry,” Theo mutters from her side.

Hermione looks over and sees that Theo has fallen asleep.

 **H** ermione and Theo honeymooned in Greece for three months. The Judge had arranged for the pair to dine with princes and dukes and other high society members. Hermione was in awe of the Grecian architecture, she considered taking a few pieces home for herself. She loved her time in Greece. Every day she had lunch plans with the finest ladies and dinner parties at the finest hotels. She felt as though she’d waltzed all across the country, stepping foot in every ballroom and dancing her way into the night. 

During the second week of their honeymoon Theo came back to their marriage bed, and was as quick and hurried as last time. If it wasn’t for her wanting children, she could forego the act all together. Hermione found that Theo seemed to feel the same way, as he didn’t return to their marriage bed for the rest of their time abroad. Besides this point, Hermione loved Theo, nonetheless. There wasn’t anyone she’d rather spend her time with and enjoyed all their partying and shenanigans. 

Once the pair returned to Hampstead, they came back to a home gifted to them by The Judge. The home was right next door to the elder Nott’s and Hermione tried to get her way out of living there. The house was beautiful, Hermione had to admit, but she wished she wasn’t so close to her in-laws. The house was looking up when she realized that the Malfoy’s lived right behind them, only a stable line and coach houses separated the two backyards. And as Hermione wanted, the house was decorated in a Grecian style with the help of Bill & Charlie Designs. 

A few weeks later it was Draco’s thirty-eighth birthday and Astoria invited Hermione and Theo to attend a party. Hermione was getting dressed with the help of Cho, wearing an emerald green dress with black detailing. Cho tightened the laces of Hermione’s corset and lightly fluffed out her skirt before returning to the staff quarters. Hermione placed a silver hair comb in her updo and twirled the pieces of curled hair around her face in her fingers. 

“Well aren’t we going to be the most à la mode couple there,” Theo chuckled from the doorway.

“I _am_ a Granger girl, remember,” Hermione smiled.

“How could I forget,” Theo said as he came up to his wife and placed a kiss on her forehead.

The pair walk down to their carriage, Fred holding the door for them and wishing them a nice time at the party. They climbed into their black carriage with two of Theo’s prized jet-black stallions, ones that were just like her fathers. 

They arrived at the Malfoy estate and Astoria greeted them at the door.

“Sorry we’re late,” Hermione said as George took her and Theo’s coats. 

“It’s no worry, the birthday boy himself isn’t even here yet,” Astoria chuckled.

Hermione smiled and walked to the drawing room of the house. “There you are!” Hannah exclaimed, getting up to hug her sister. The men exchanged nods and handshakes. Hermione noted that the Goyles, Weasley’s, Zabini’s, and Wood’s were there, as well as a few other families. 

Ginny was dressed in the finest silks that she had just had made for her the past month. Ginny usually did two yearly trips to Paris for her wardrobe, and Madame Malkin never failed to create a presence with her gowns. The men and the women separated, the women staying in the drawing room and the men working their way over to the parlor.

As the women were talking, Hermione noticed that Astoria seemed intimidated by Ginny. She always tried to tell more elaborate stories than Ginny and wear more à la mode fashions, but Ginny was still at the top of each guest list. The Zabini’s were invited to every gathering, party, and dinner. And as Mrs. Draco Malfoy, wife of the Merchant Prince, she felt that it was her place to be on the top of those guest lists, not the redhead. 

“I heard you were going to Paris soon, is that right, ‘Mione?” Luna asked.

“I am, Hannah and I have a trip scheduled for next month,” Hermione said as she took a sip of her drink.

“You will have to ask Madame Malkin for the Grecian-bend panier, they are absolutely beautiful,” Ginny smiled.

Hannah and Hermione both smiled and thanked Ginny for her suggestion.

“You girls are always in impeachable fashions. How are the rest of us to keep up!” Lavender exclaimed.

The group chuckled at Lavender's mis-wording. The woman was never the best with words, always mixing and jumbling them about. It was just her character and after sharing time with her, Hermione soon realized how to hold a conversation and read behind her words. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione noticed eight-year-old Scorpius sitting on the last step of the stairs outside the drawing room. His blue-and-white striped pajama top hung over his feet, his knees up to his chest. Hermione excused herself from the ladies and went over to the stairs.

“Why, hello there Scorp,” Hermione said, leaning down towards him.

“Hello, Mrs. Nott,” Scorpius replies.

“You can call me Hermione,” Hermione smiled at the boy.

Scorpius smiled up at her.

“Where is Lyra?” Hermione asked, slightly turning her head as if she was looking for the little girl.

“She’s asleep.”

“Shouldn’t you be too?”

“Yes, but please don’t tell my mother! She’ll be really mad,” Scorpius said with a slightly panicked tone.

“If you go up to your room right now, I promise I won't,” Hermione said. 

Scorpius nodded his head and got up, turned around, and ran up the stairs to his room Just as Hermione straightened and turned around, Draco walked in the door. 

“And there he is,” said Hermione. “The birthday boy himself. Let me be the first to wish you a happy three-eight.”

“Was the three-eight necessary? I’ve been doing my best to forget what day it is,” Draco chuckled.

“Not a chance of that happening tonight,” Hermione cheered. 

Draco removed his gloves and handed them to George. “I suppose everyone’s arrived already, then?”

“Afraid so.”

Draco leaned towards Hermione and whispered, “My wife’s going to have my hide for being late, you know.” He offered a smile just as Astoria came out from the drawing room.

“Well look who decided to grace us with their company.”Astoria folded her arms across her chest. “Maybe you’d like to greet your guests, they’ve been waiting over an hour for you.” She gestured with her chin towards the dining room, where, Hermione gathered, everyone was congregating for the meal.

“Hello, dear,” Draco said as he leaned in to kiss Astoria’s cheek, but she pulled back and turned her face away.

“Well, then,” Draco said, unfazed by Astoria’s rejection, “if you’ll both excuse me, I have some guests to greet.”

It wasn’t until Draco left her side that Hermione realized she was flushed. It seemed just Draco’s presence always did that to her. As she and Astoria headed to the dining room, Hermione was in awe of how Draco could rally a room. WIth just his presence he could have people clinging to his arm. Even if it hadn’t been his birthday, no matter where he went, Draco Malfoy was the center of attention. 

As the party continued, Hermione kept her eye on Theo, who always had a drink in his hand. As their life was one big party, it was to be expected, but Theo always seemed to be ahead of the crowd. Whilst most people were on their third drink, Theo was on his fourth or fifth. Depending on the timing, he could either be a great amusement or cause of dire embarrassment. 

Just a few weeks before, Theo had suggested a game of charades at a party that ended with him drinking too many whiskeys and passing out with his shirt off on the couch. Hermione was utterly mortified and left apologizing profusely to the hosts, Mr. and Mrs. Oliver wood. The next morning, Theo didn’t remember a thing and Hermione was left with the brunt of the embarrassment. Over in the corner with Harry, Neville, and Draco, he seemed fine, but that did not keep Hermione from worrying.

The conversation was then taken over by Parvati, turning it into a gossip fest, which Hermione politely excused herself from. She headed for the corner with her husband, Draco, and Harry, and a waiter passed by as Hermione reached Theo.

“Would you like something to eat?” Hermione whispered.

Theo didn't seem to hear her as he spoke, “I was just talking with Draco, and god is he fascinating. Would you say so? I mean, he’s _really_ fascinating.”

“Yes, I would agree,” Hermione said as she took Theo’s glass away from him. 

Hermione stayed by her husband's side for the rest of the evening until dinner was called. The meal was delicious and as dessert was brought out, Astoria performed a toast. 

“Happy birthday, dear. I do hope someone gets you a timepiece as a present so you are not to be late next time.”

Draco smiled graciously, but as Astoria took her seat right next to her husband, Hermione saw something pass between the two that showed that it was not just a good-natured joke. 

“Now, we should hear from the birthday boy himself!” Ginny exclaimed.

“Speech. Speech. Speech,” Blaise cheered with his glass in the air, the rest of the table joining with him.

Draco waved his hands in protest, which only egged on the cheering. Hermione looked over to him and saw the dread in his face as he sighed, trying to think of something to say. Hermione lifted her glass and said over the others, “On behalf of Mr. Malfoy, I would like to announce that tomorrow all fabrics at Weasley, Malfoy, & Company are half off!”

The table erupted in laughter and drank from their glasses. Hermione caught Draco’s gaze and he gave her a quick nod and a wink. Hermione’s skin flushed and if anyone asked, she would’ve blamed it on the alcohol. 

“Nice one,” Harry smiled to Hermione.

“Your wife has a quick wit,” Greg Goyle chuckled.

“That she does,” Theo replied as he smiled to Hermione. 

Lavender Weasley turned to her husband and said, “You didn’t tell me there was a sale on fabrics tomorrow!”

Everyone looked to Lavender Weasley and burst out laughing again.

 **A** fter they’d finished dinner, the men retreated to the library for their late night brandies and cigars, while the women retired to the parlor. The room was as extravagant as the rest of the house with influences of Louis XVI all throughout the room. A gold birdcage hung in the corner of the room with two chirping parakeets. Hermione, who had always been a bit put off by birds, sat in the corner of the room farthest from the cage. 

Whilst the ladies were sharing drinks, Lavender mentioned that her daughter was starting ballet lessons. “She jumps all around the house. I’ll be damned if she knocks over a Persian vase or two.”

The women chuckled at Lavenders wording. At this point no one acknowledged it, the women still knew what she meant, even with her nonsensical ramblings. Lavender was a simple woman who came into a great fortune when her husband founded Weasley, Malfoy, and Company. Whilst the men seemed accustomed to their part of the money, the women were less so. Even though Astoria grew up in the Greengrass house, her father only came into great wealth later in her life. Lavender, even less so. She wore fancy gowns by designers whose labels she wouldn’t have a clue how to pronounce and sat through operas without grasping a word. But the lady was nice so they let all her societal shortcomings pass without notice.

Daphne continued the conversation above the squeaking birds. Talking of her children and their latest accomplishments. The woman had just welcomed a third little girl into their family. “Greg is slightly peeved that it's another girl, but he’s a sucker for them. Imagine when he’ll have to hand them off to another man.” They all laughed and Hermione couldn’t help but feel a little upset. She still wasn’t pregnant and all this talk of her friends children was only making her want them more.

“Cecelia is getting so big! She’s finally walking and getting into all my precious flowers,” Hannah smiled.

Hannah had two children, Levi—who was six—and Cecelia—who was almost one. Hermione was a little envious of her sister, so whenever offered she would babysit as the famous _Aunt ‘Mione_.

Astoria spoke of Lyra and Scorpius. Scorpius was known for getting himself into trouble and dragging poor little Lyra along with him. She also noted that the young Malfoy was a ladies man, already having the neighborhood girls flocking to his side. The women all shared a chuckle at the dashing young Malfoy’s expense. _Just like his father_ Hermione thought, _just like his father_.

From next to Hermione, Daphne turned to her. “You know, dear. You are still a newlywed, by this time next year I bet you will have a family of your own. And until then, would you mind babysitting?” They all laugh, Lavender almost choking on her drink.

“Of course she will!” Hannah smiled.

“To which are you referring to?” Hermione chuckled.

“The former, _I’m_ the only one who gets access to the latter.”

“Well, in that case. I do hope to start a family soon,” Hermione said as she sat back in her chair. Mrs. Nott was practically begging her to give her a grandchild. Theo was an only child, so he was expected to have an heir to continue the Nott line. As much as she did want children, she considered not having any just to spite her mother-in-law. But despite that, her want for a family prevailed. She only wished that Theo would want to try more. She would stand a much better chance of becoming pregnant in that case. 

Whilst the women continued their chatter about their families, Hermione excused herself. She felt a headache coming on and, overall, was a bit fed up with the topic of children. As she was leaning against a table to help with her balance she heard the men talking in what seemed like a disagreement. She tried to concentrate on the voices.

“See, that’s where you and I differ,” she heard Ron saying. “Wholesale is much more lucrative and you _still_ continue to focus on retail! All it is is a bunch of women with too much time on their hands.”

“Time _and_ money,” Blaise reminded.

“Especially with our wives,” Greg added with a laugh.

“That is exactly why I want to continue importing goods from France as I’ve always said, ‘Give the Mrs. what she wants.’ ”

“And I’m over you saying that nonsense,” said Ron, “Women aren’t all that particular when it comes to fashion. Give them something and they’ll buy it.”

The conversation continued but Hermione felt her head pounding again and lost track of what they were saying. She put her other hand on the table and focused on the gold painted filigree in the center. She felt like she had been in that position for hours when a voice called from behind her.

“Are you not feeling well?” 

Hermione turned around and there, standing before her, was Draco.

“Goodness, you’re white as a sheet, come here. I’ll get you some water. George, can you please get Mrs. Nott a glass of water.”

Draco placed one hand on the mall of her back and the other on her hand, which he placed around his shoulders. He guided her to the library and when they arrived Theo rushed to her side. “Goodness, Hermione, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing, nothing,” she said. “Just a headache is all. I’ll be fine.”

The men all turned to her, unsure of what to say as the women weren’t usually in their company when they were having brandies and cigars. She told the men that she would only be a minute—Theo pointed out that she could stay as long as she needed—and they continued with their conversation at hand. George arrived with her glass of water and she took, thanking him before he was out of sight. She felt a bit better after a few sips, but still didn’t want to return to the company of the women. 

“...You give the ladies too much credit,” Ron insisted, “Most of them wouldn’t know satin from velvet.”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. How could Ron be so naïve, all the women she knew practically designed every piece in their wardrobe.

“Excuse me?” Ron said as he gave her a glare.

“I’m sorry for laughing, but you think very little of us. All the women I know have a hand in designing every piece of their wardrobe.”

“You’ll have to forgive Hermione. My wife is very passionate on the subject of ladies fashions,” Theo chuckled.

“No, no. Hermione is right,” said Draco. “Most of the women here go on yearly fashion trips to Paris. If they didn’t know a thing about fabric, why would they do that?”

Hermione felt a sense of elation at Draco’s words. He had been one of the first people, other than perhaps Theo, to take her interest in fashion seriously. Most took it with a grain of salt, when in reality, fashion meant _everything_ to a lady. You could tell a women's class and occupation just form the skirts and corsets she wore.

“I would like to hear more of what Hermione has to say. You,” Draco said, addressing her, “are the epitome of the modern woman. And Ron, I hate to break it to you, but the modern woman is precisely our customer. Please,” he gestured, “go on.”

Hermione smiled and spoke of how fashion speaks to a woman. How fabric can represent so many things with just a puff of a sleeve or flounce of a skirt. 

“See?” Draco said after Hermione finished her speal. Hermione had a smile on her face as the men were rendered speechless for a moment. 

“I will keep telling you, but you're wasting your time on these women.” Ron said as he gazed over at Hermione, “No offense.”

“None taken. But Draco does raise an interesting point.”

“He does, now?”

“If you want the customers, give us food and a place to powder our noses, and we won’t have a need to leave,” Hermione chuckled.

The men laughed.

“I’m very serious. What is there else for us to do? You men work and we raise the children. If there is no children to raise, like the younger girls and myself, the stores are the only reason for us to get out of the house.”

“Exactly,” said Draco, ”Ron, are you hearing what Mrs. Nott is saying?”

Hermione was practically beaming with delight. She had never felt so validated, especially by a man of the same class and caliber as Draco Malfoy. He was actually listening to her and her ideas, not striking a single one down, _especially_ not with the phrase “but you’re a woman.”

Besides all her and Draco’s points, Ron was not letting up. He slammed his glass on the table and said, “Draco Malfoy, you are no businessman.”

After that, the conversation still continued until the mens cigars were out. They decided to join the women in the parlor, the lot of them making their way over.

“There you are,” Astoria said.

“We were wondering where you wandered off to,” Hannah added.

“I’m afraid I had a headache. The men brought me some water and offered for me to lay on the couch in the library,” Hermione said.

“Thank goodness you’re feeling better,” Astoria said with a smile that, to Hermione, looked a bit _too_ forced.

When the women began chatting again, Ginny pulled Hermione off to the side and lowered her voice. “As your friend, I feel the need to tell you this. You need to watch your step. It’s no secret that the Malfoy’s are unhappy in their marriage, and you _don’t_ want to cross Astoria.”

Hermione was shocked at what her friend said. “Whatever do you mean?” She hadn’t a clue that the Malfoy’s were unhappy. Were they a bit unconventional? Yes. But unhappy? Hermione didn’t know.

“After you left the parlor, some of the women were mentioning how you seemed _familiar_ with Draco.”

“That’s ridiculous—“

“I’m saying this to you as your friend. You do not want to get cross with Astoria.”

 **L** ater that evening, Hermione was in her room with Cho helping her undress for the night. Once that was completed, Cho headed off to her quarters, leaving Hermione alone in her room. She padded over to the door, hoping to hear Theo’s footsteps, but all was quiet. She had considered going to his room, but that never went well. She knew that he had to do the approaching.

Hermione stood in front of her mirror, her curly locks down and wild, grazing just over her shoulders. She took her comb and tried to work through some of the knots in her hair. She could never do it as well as Cho could, but she still tried her best. 

Hermione wondered if her situation was normal. With Theo not wanting to spend his nights with her, them even sleeping in separate quarters. Maybe this was normal for many and wife? Maybe the problem was her, she should have been able to conceive with little effort. Despite this, she still desperately wanted a child. The talk of her friends' kids only made her baby fever soar. 

She gave up on her hair, placing the comb back on her vanity and walked over to her window. She could see the lamps still on at the Malfoy residence. Ginny’s words rang in her mind. What could they mean by _familiar_. All she’d ever done was be kind to Draco, was she not supposed to do that? She admitted to herself that, yes, she was fond of him. And they did seem to have a lot in common, but he was married—to her friend, nonetheless—and so was she.

She closed the drapes and shut off her lamp, the gold light fading until the wick gave out, leaving her in a bath of darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The Trade Union Act of 1871 will pass in 1891 instead of 1871  
> *The use of cocaine in medicine would’ve begun in 1864 instead of 1884

**”W** hat brings you here?” Hermione’s father asked as she followed him around the shop floor of the new and, presumably, fireproof Granger & Company.

“Can’t a daughter visit her father at work?”

“You know I love your visits,” Hermione’s father said as he picked up a cricket ball and threw it to Hermione. “Watch out, ‘Mione. Here it comes.”

Hermione caught the ball in one gloved hand, that she managed to slip on before her father threw the ball. She threw the ball back to her father before telling him that he should’ve had a son. 

“Nonsense, I’m rooting for you to have a grandson. And, by the way, you’re the best first slip there is,” her father smiled as he placed the ball back in the basket. 

Hermione put her glove back where it belonged and she quickly changed the subject from grandchildren. “Would you guess where I was invited to last night?”

“Do I want to know?”

“Depends.”

“But you’re going to tell me anyways?”

“Exactly.”

“Then, by all means, go ahead.” Hermione's father motioned with his hands for her to speak as they continued walking through the store, her father fixing and checking on things here and there.

“I was invited to a birthday party for Draco Malfoy.”

“I’m guessing you went?”

“Of course I did!”

“So you were fraternizing with the competition, I see. There seems to be a lot of that going on lately,” her father said with a smile.

“We are neighbors, after all. You say that like you don't get invited to the Goyle’s parties.”

“The Goyles own the rails,” her father joked.

“Rails, merchants. What difference?”

Her father chuckled and Hermione continued, “Anyways, Theo and I are fond of Draco. And Astoria too. What do you make of them?”

“I know Drake from The London Men’s Club, he’s always sitting at a table with Goyle, Blaise, and the rest of that lot. I rarely see him, as I don’t go to the club too often, but when I do, I sit and converse with him.”

“What’s your impression of him?”

“He’s decent enough. I know a few lads who worked for him, said he was awfully cheap and persnickety, especially when it came to salaries. They also said he was tough to work for, he’s been known to be a perfectionist.”

“Oh…” Hermione felt a wave of disappointment wash over her at her fathers words.

 _Cheap, persnickety._ Two words you don’t want to hear associated with someone. Hermione could hardly believe he was like this. She decidedly took her fathers words with a grain of salt. She figured that the people who used to work for Draco were just jealous of his accomplishments, spinning anything they could to try and get bad press on the man.

“Then again,” her father said, “I suppose that’s why he’s so successful. When it comes to business, you won’t find anyone more brilliant. He is known as the Merchant Prince, after all.” He paused to fix a display of mens shoes. “Why the sudden interest in Draco Malfoy?”

“Oh, no reason,” Hermione said with a wave of her hand, wavering his question away. “As I said, we were socializing with him last night. Theo is mad for him, that’s all.”

 **A** few days later, Hermione was invited over for tea with Astoria. She arrived in a blue-velvet trimmed Madame Fluer gown. Astoria greeted her in a simple skirt with a tablier hanging down. Hermione expected Astoria to change, but when the woman didn't, Hermione felt wildly overdressed and out of place.

Astoria had a table for two set in the parlor. As Hermione walked into the room, the parakeets in the gold cage squawked and fluttered their wings. Hermione slightly jumped, but not enough to catch Astoria’s attention. 

The pair took their seats and Hermione looked out the window, noticing that it was a bright and sunny day from the sun rays hitting her skin, the bands of heat and light streaking across her hands and face through the shades. The weather had said it was supposed to rain, but as of then, it showed no signs.

“Excuse me,” Hermione said, slightly squinting, “but would you mind adjusting the shades?”

“Oh, of course,” Astoria said as she tapped her fingers along her teacup.

Hermione waited a moment, but Astoria made no movement to adjust the shades herself, nor did she ask George to. Instead, Astoria kept on taking. “You Nott’s are such a fun couple. Always the life of the party.”

“Theo is the instigator, you know.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard. Weren’t you the one who started the game at the Wood’s party the other week?”

Hermione was a bit peeved that Astoria would bring up such a thing. She remembered finding Theo passed out drunk on the couch with his shirt off and apologizing profusely to Luna and Oliver. A memory she would prefer to leave in the past. Hermione reasoned that Astoria was just making conversation and tried to steer the subject. “Who doesn’t love a good game?” Hermione forced a smile and squinted, once again, as the light hit her eyes. 

“I’ve always been fond of Theo,” said Astoria. “Though, I’m sure you must find it lonesome in that big house. No children to take care of, just the two of you.”

“I manage to occupy my time,” Hermione said as she lifted her cup to her lips so as to not glare at Astoria. She, again, reasoned that it was just innocent conversation, but Hermione couldn’t help but feel a tinge of distaste in her voice.

“Draco is very taken with you, you know,” Astoria said as Hermione’s teacup hit her saucer.

“Oh?” Hermione almost knocked her cup over.

“He’s fond of Theo,” Astoria starts, “But there is something about you that he finds particularly fascinating. He’s always taken well to women such as yourself. They remind him of his mother. That’s why he and Ginny get on so well.”

The sun from the window turned an ominous dark grey.

“Looks as though it might rain after all,” Hermione said, hoping to change the subject. The birds began to stir and Hermione shuddered.

“Is it safe to say that you aren’t fond of birds?” Astoria asked, noticing Hermione’s reaction.

“Quite. When i was a child someone dropped a dead bird in my lap and I’ve been terrified ever since.” 

“Well,” said Astoria, getting up from her chair, “there is only one way to get over your fear.” Astoria walked over to the gold cage before Hermione spoke. “Really, it’s fine.”

Astoria opened the cage and took one of the parakeets on her finger, walking over to Hermione. “Please, it’s really fine,” Hermione said as she tried backing as far away as she could in her chair. 

“See, it's not that bad,” Astoria said as she placed the bird on Hermione’s shoulder.

“Please. Get. It. Off,” Hermione shakily said.

“It’s not even doing anything,” Astoria chuckled as she took the bird and placed it back in it’s cage.

Hermione took a breath and quickly straightened in her chair, her eyes still wide from fear. “Since Draco is always working,” said Astoria as she walked back to her chair, “I was planning on taking the kids to France for the holidays.”

“Oh,” Hermione replied as she thought of a way to leave Astoria, “I hope you all have a wonderful time, but I must be going. Thank you for the tea.”

“That might be best, I can feel a cough coming on,” Astoria said as she placed a hand over her throat.

“I do hope you feel better,” Hermione said and she got up and headed for the entryway as Astoria retired to the stairway. As she made her way to the grand dorms, Draco walked in. 

‘Hermione, what a pleasure to see you,” Draco said. George walked up to him, presumably to take his coat and umbrella, but Draco waived him off.

“You too, Draco.”

“Are you heading off?”

“I am. Do tell Astoria that I hope she is feeling better.”

“Let me walk you home. The weather is treacherous out there.”

“It’s really no trouble.”

“I insist.”

“I can’t deny your insistence, so I’ll oblige,” Hermione chuckled. Draco opened his umbrella again and Hermione jumped back in surprise. “Don’t tell me you fall for superstitions?” Draco questioned.

“I’m afraid I do, no shoes on the table, no walking under ladders, the whole lot of them,” Hermione smiled.

Draco chuckled and he took Hermione’s hand and guided her outside, George closed the door behind them. Draco looped his arm through Hermione’s and the pair made their way to her house.

Hermione could feel the heat of Draco’s skin through his clothing as they walked. She felt her skin flushing and her stomach knotting at the thought of him being so close. Few words were spoken between the pair, but Hermione was grateful as she wasn’t sure she would’ve been able to form a sentence with Draco so close to her.

They arrived at Hermione’s doorstep and Draco unlooped his arm from hers, and she turned to face him. Her eyes locked with his and she noticed their grey coloring, lighter and darker shades swirling to create a storm of a pattern. Hermione saw Draco lean closer to her and she slightly tilted her head to do the same. 

Just as Hermione was going to close her eyes, she heard the squeak of her front door opening. 

“Draco! Thank you for bringing my wife home. Thought I might have had to go fetch her myself,” Theo chuckled.

“It was no issue,” Draco said, coolly turning to face Theo as if her lips weren’t about to grace his. 

“Would you like to come in for a brandy or two?”

“And have a chance to beat you at chess again? I would love to,” Draco smirked.

The three of them headed inside, the men to the library and Hermione up to her room. She sat herself on her bed and fell back, her hair comb poking at her skull. She brought a hand to her lips and could almost feel the phantom touch of _his_. Her cheeks were flushed and stomach knotted.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. She must’ve imagined the whole thing. Draco was a married man, why would he be leaning in to kiss her? Astoria was her friend and Theo was her husband for God’s sake. But a part of her knew that she wasn’t imagining and she couldn’t decide whether she was frightened or excited. Either way, she knew that something had begun and that nothing would ever be the same.

 **“T** heo! Stop it!,” Hermione giggled as his hands tickled her midsection. 

“I don’t think so,” Theo chuckled.

“Theo!” she laughed, tears filling her eyes.

Hermione took a breath as Theo retracted his hands but he quickly put them back and she resumed her giggling. Theo finally let up, Hermione’s protests ceasing as they both are left giggling on her bed. Earlier that night, Theo had come into her room and pulled her close. Whenever Hermione had just begun to enjoy the pleasure of him moving inside her, he was finished and panting next to her, usually leaving quickly. 

But tonight Theo stayed with her. They talked, laughed, and played around. Hermione was happy he was finally staying with her and she reached up for another kiss. He reciprocated, kissing her back. She was hot with expectation and Theo, then, cupped his hands on her face. “It’s getting late, love.”

“Can you at least stay?”

“Why? And keep you up with my snoring?”

Hermione sighed and gave him a good night's kiss before he headed off to his room. That night she gathered herself under her covers and trailed her hand down her stomach, venturing to where Theo hadn’t ever before.

 **T** he next morning, Hermione woke up and placed a hand on her stomach like she always did the morning after. Trying to find a difference or indication. Her skin felt warm and although she knew it was foolish, she told herself that it was a sign. 

She finally got out of her bed at around seven and Cho helped her get ready for the day. Once she was dressed, she walked down to the kitchen, eyeing a cup of coffee and a plate of pastries prepared by the kitchen staff. Hermione took a seat at the large dining table and drank a sip of coffee. In front of her she found the day's copy of _The Pall Mall Gazette_.

Whilst drinking her coffee, Hermione flipped through the news. She saw an article about the recent protests for a reformed trade union bill. Hermione could not understand why the workers wanted a reformed one. According to the Royal Commission on Trade Unions in 1861, unions were already allowed, but the workers apparently wanted more rights leading to higher wages and less hours.

She turned the page and saw a large advertisement for Weasley, Malfoy, & Company. Hermione hadn’t been to Weasley, Malfoy, & Company in a few weeks, not since Draco had walked her home in the rain. Daphne Goyle and Luna Wood had invited her to go shopping with them that afternoon and she was debating on whether or not she would, or rather should, go. 

Hermione was beginning to think that avoiding Draco was an admission of guilt. But she hadn’t done anything wrong. She was still telling herself that she imagined Draco leaning into her the other day. He most likely didn’t even _want_ to kiss her anyways. For the hundredth time she reminded herself that he was married and they were neighbors. Friends, just friends. 

Hermione chuckled to herself at the ridiculous idea that Draco had _wanted_ to kiss her and made up her mind that she would join the others at the store. 

“Good morning, love,” Theo said from the doorway. Hermione looked up to him and gave him a smile. “Good morning,” Hermione replied.

“Looks like someone’s up early,” Theo chuckled as he walked to the chair next to Hermione.

“Maybe you’re up late.”

“Well, love,” said Theo, his voice darkening, “someone _did_ keep me up late last night.”

Hermione rolled her eyes before taking another sip of her coffee. “What do you have planned for today?” she asked.

“I might go riding with Harry down in the countryside.”

Theo was an avid rider, and with their house in the countryside, he had a stable with breeding grounds that Theo would either use for himself, or for selling. He had loved horses ever since he was a kid and had practically perfected his horse-breeding skills by the time he was sixteen. 

“Or maybe go play cards at the men’s club,” he added.

The London Men’s Club was an exclusive club for the highest in the society. Her father, Draco, Ron, Blaise, Oliver, Greg, and many others were members. All they did was drink and throw away their lifetime supplies of capital. 

Hermione didn’t say anything, but she wanted to point out that he’d been at the men’s club almost everyday that week. She wanted to ask him to see to the household expenses so that the servants would be paid on time and they wouldn’t have to go asking her for their salaries. Oh how she wished that he would go back to working in law, but she knew that that would never happen, he hated the job. Between his family and his last firm, he didn’t need to ever work a day in his life, nor did he want to.

This frustrated Hermione because she was used to men like her father who came from nothing and built a business, working long and hard hours, getting rewarded with their time and effort with not just monetary gain, but self satisfaction. Besides, Draco Malfoy didn’t need to work either.

Hermione knew that it was wrong to compare Theo to men like Draco And her father. They both had grown up very differently. Theo was born into and grew up on a lap of luxury whilst her father and Draco built their name from the ground up. Draco’s father was in the House of Lords, but after Draco confessed that he didn’t want to work in parliament, his father kicked him out with nothing but the clothes on his back and a pound. 

Hermione was fascinated by the men who built something from nothing, and she wished she had those opportunities, all whilst her husband wasn’t even interested in achieving something of his own.

“Well, I have a busy day ahead of me,” Hermione said.

“Then I should probably get out of your way,” Theo smiled, getting up from his chair and heading to the entryway. 

“And Theo,” Hermione started.

“Yes, love?”

“I think last night might’ve been the night,” she smiled.

“Oh, you can tell already?”

“No, but I’m just very, very hopeful. Oh, so hopeful.”

 **L** ater that afternoon Theo and his coachman drove Hermione to Hampstead High Street. As Hermione stepped out of the coach and waved Theo goodbye, she walked down to Weasley, Malfoy, & Company. On her little walk, she admired how resiliant the city was, as it had been 5 years since the fire and the city had rebuilt itself and then some.

Hermione reached Weasley, Malfoy, & Company and stepped inside. As she walked around the first floor, she spotted many goods that she hadn’t seen before. She saw women decked in their finest attire, showing their status and why they can spend an afternoon shopping instead of working in the factories in the city. 

Hermione spotted Luna’s blonde ringlets. The women stood next to her were Daphne and Parvati. Hermione was slightly disappointed to see Parvati there. The woman was the largest town gossip and Hermione never favored her share of rumors and whispers. But with no club meetings, where else would Parvati be on a free afternoon other than Weasley, Malfoy, & Company. 

She walked up to the trio and greeted them. “Out! Out! Get out of my store!” Hermione turned and saw Ron Weasley flailing his arms at a bewildered man. “I don’t care how much money you have. I want you out!” Ron was saying. “Put that shawl down this instant!” The women watched as Ron chased the man out the front door. 

It wasn’t the first time Ron had done that, and it most certainly wasn’t that last. Ron Weasley was known to chastise customers he didn’t like, so Hermione and the others kept on shopping like nothing had even occurred.They all headed down the aisle with beauty products. Salves, rouges, and tonics lined the shelves. Hermione didn’t fancy herself any new beauty supplies, so she broke off from the group and headed down the center aisle that housed an array of silk shawls.

“Orange is not your color.” Hermione spun around and almost dropped the shawl she picked up at seeing Draco Malfoy behind her.

“Draco!” She felt an unexpected rush make its way through her body. “Aren’t you meant to talk women _into_ buying things?”

“I’d never lie to a lady. Here,” said Draco, holding up a light blue shawl, “this is much better. It brings out the color in your eyes.”

“My eyes are brown,” she said with a laugh.

“Would you believe me if I said it complements your skin tone?”

“Now that, Mr. Malfoy, I will accept,” Hermione said with a chuckle.

“Do you have a moment? There are some items I’d like to get your opinion on.”

Hermione gasped and placed a hand on her chest. “You, the Merchant Prince, are seeking _my_ opinion?”

“Mrs. Nott, with all due respect, when it comes to women’s fashions, there is no one’s opinion I value more than yours.”

Hermione took in his compliment with a deep breath, she felt it radiate throughout her body, making her cheeks flush. “Well, in that case, Mr. Malfoy, I’m all yours.”

She was laughing when she glanced over and noticed Daphne, Luna, and Parvati watching her. Parvati gave her a long perplexed look that made Hermione uncomfortable., as if she’d done something wrong. Luna and Daphne glanced away and she knew she should rejoin them, but Draco wanted to show her some things. How could she turn him away when _he’d_ asked for her opinion. 

Draco guided her with a hand on the small of her back, walking her down the aisle. Stopping before a hats display, he rotated one of them. “Remember,” he said to the shop girl, “feathers and enhancements face out.”

The young girl apologized, looking as though she had just committed a grave mistake. Draco moved on with Hermione at his side and she couldn’t help but hear her fathers words echo in her mind as they paced by the other workers who looked as though they were holding their breath. _Persnickety_ and _tough to work for_ she remembered. 

Draco walked her into the back storage room where dozens upon dozens of wooden crates sat. He grabbed a bar and began prying open one of the boxes. Hermione observed the way his thick hands wedged the lid open. Seeing that he was a perfectionist, she imagined that his one crooked finger must’ve seemed like an immense flaw to him, which also probably explained why he kept it in his pocket whenever possible. 

As Draco opened the first crate, Hermione's pulse heightened. She was getting a private preview to the newest fashions. She was over the moon as he showed her a new collection of Madame Fleur gowns, House of Beauxbaton hat boxes, and many others. She had liked everything he showed her, except for these M. Bulstrode bonnets. 

“There is too much going on here. I mean, lace _and_ crystals?” Hermione said, holding the bonnet in her hands. 

“I was wondering the same thing,” Draco said. “I asked a few shop girls and none of them gave me a straight answer. They all wanted to see what I thought. Why can’t more women speak their minds?”

“Is that really what you want women to do?”

“Only when they agree with me,” he chuckled and called over to one of the cashboys. “Take the M. Bulstrodes back.”

Hermione stood back in amazement. Never before had her opinion been taken so seriously. All because of her word the bonnets went back. She was ecstatic that Draco trusted her enough with his stock. How would she know what the whole of Hampstead would want? Nonetheless, she stood tall with her shoulders back as a burst of confidence came over her. She felt as though Draco had put a spotlight on her and she was going to show it off.

“And make sure to use The Royal Post not London Stampage.They are much cheaper,” Draco called to the cashboy. The boy nodded and walked away.

“You are very frugal,” Hermione commented.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, not necessarily.”

“I’m frugal on things that make sense. When an idea strikes me I won’t hesitate to spend like the devil.”

They went on with their conversation, talking about different merchandise and they eventually got on the topic of Astoria and the kids.

“They’re in France.”

“Already?” Hermione questioned.

“They sure are.”

“I thought they weren’t going to leave until the holidays?”

“That’s what I Thought too. Apparently Astoria changed her mind. They left yesterday, in fact.”

“That’s a shame.”

“It’s for the best.”

“How so?”

“Astoria has been suffering with every ailment you could think of. I’ve taken her to every doctor and all they prescribe is for her to take some more cocaine to numb the pain. And since she says the air in France is much better for her condition, off she goes.” 

Hermione looked over at Draco and the smile that was once on his face had all but vanished.

“I think the air is the same as here.”

“And I would agree with you, but there isn’t much I can do.”

Hermione couldn’t read the expression on Draco’s face. She imagined he was heartbroken over the condition of Astoria’s ailments. She found his loyalty to his sick wife another one of Draco Malfoy’s admirable traits. 

Hermione caught herself staring and she nervously patted the front of her skirt. “I’d best be going. It’s getting late,” she said. Hermione was supposed to meet her mother-in-law at four o’clock and it was nearing five till.

“It can get lonely in that big house with no one but myself and the servants. Perhaps you and Theo would want to join me for dinner and drinks sometime?”

“We’d love to. I’ll send you a post. I know Theo would enjoy that very much.”

He gave her a penetrating look with those stormy-grey eyes and she felt the same magnetic pull towards him as she did the other day in the rain. She gave him a smile and backed away from him. She had to.

 **O** n her way home Hermione tried to think of a good excuse as to why she’d been late. _Stuck in traffic? Ran into a group of girls from the Highline club? She was busy shopping?_ Ultimately, Hermione decided to not have an excuse. Whatever she said to Mrs. Nott wouldn’t make a difference. 

Although she knew she would incur the wrath of Mrs. Nott for being late, she didn’t regret any of her time spent with Draco. He was someone who actually made her feel important, and she wouldn’t sacrifice that for her mother-in-law who always viewed her as less than.

When she go home, she found that her mother-in-law wasn’t waiting for her.

“You’re in luck,” said Theo, “You’ve been spared of my mothers wrath.”

Hermione chuckled as she headed into the library, Theo following close behind.

“I sent her home.”

She saw the opened bottle of bourbon and half-empty glass sitting on the low table in the library. “Are you drunk, already?”

“Possibly, and don’t reprimand me. I’ve had one hell of a day.” Theo brought his glass up to his lips and tipped it back, downing the rest of the contents.

Hermione moved closer to him, placing her hands on his forehead. “What’s the matter? What’s wrong?” she asked as he pulled away from her.

Theo looked miserable as he refilled his glass. Hermione paused, listening to the sound of the ice cracklings as the bourbon hit it. The amber liquid filling the glass to the brim. “Please, tell me what’s wrong,” Hermione pleaded.

“It’s Harry,’ Theo said as he looked up from his pouring and put the glass to his lips, not once sparing a glance at Hermione. “He’s decided to move to France. Apparently he has some girl there.”

“Oh, Theo, you know how Harry is. By this time next year he’ll be back.” Hermione had to bite back a laugh as she said that.

“You don’t get it. He’s my best friend and he’s _leaving_.”

“You still have me. Aren’t I your best friend?” She tried to give a smile but Theo still stared at the wall ahead of him as he downed the rest of his glass and left the room, whiteout once giving her a second glance.

 **A** few weeks later Hermione sat in the library, studying her social calendar and watching the snowfall. It was early December and icicles hung from the windows and ledges. 

Hermione glanced down and realized she had a full schedule. There was a Highline Club meeting and one of her favorite authors was hosting a book club that she was very excited to attend. She had lunch with Ginny one day. Tea with Daphne and Luna another and a hospital charity ball one Saturday because The Judge had donated a few thousand pounds to the hospital so the whole Nott family had to make an appearance. 

As she stood up from her desk, Hermione felt a dull ache spread across her lower back. Her head throbbed and her stomach was in knots with the first sign of her monthly cramps. Hermione asked Cho for a hot water bottle, not even bothering to check or count the days. She knew that one more month had gone past. One more month she failed to conceive. She no longer cried at the appearance of her cycle, at this point Hermione expected it and took the failure with nothing more than a sigh. 

Hermione went up to her room and laid on her bed, rolling onto her side as she curled her body around the warmth of the water bottle. What was her purpose? Why did God put her here and give her the inability to have children? 

If only she and Theo could have children. How much easier life would be. She wouldn’t have to worry about Draco, she could finally find her own happiness. 

Hermione dozed off and when she woke up, she saw Theo standing in the doorway. 

“I just got back from lunch with Draco. Cho said you weren’t feeling well so I came to check on you.” He went over and sat next to her on the side of her bed. “What’s wrong? Your head? A cold? Tell me what it is, love.”

Hermione looked down, not meeting Theo’s eyes. “I’ve failed you, again.”

“You haven’t failed me, Hermione.”

She looked up and brough one of hands to his face, lightly stroking his check. “I keep thinking we should try harder, more often.”

“Love, somethings can’t be rushed.”

“But we are barely trying.”

“Shh. Relax. If you relax it will happen. Don’t think too much.”

Hermione was a little irritated with him. How did he expect her to conceive if they never tried. All she wanted was a child and nothing is even coming of that. She watched Theo’s chest move up and down with each breath and as she went to go say something, she looked up, and saw that his eyes were closed. Three in the afternoon and he had fallen asleep.

 **A** week later it was Oliver Wood’s annual winter pageant at the Hightime Club. Hermione, Theo, and Draco all attended, well, Hermione and Theo went together and they met up with Draco after he was finished with the store. When Draco arrived, Hermione was talking to Susan Black. As soon as she noticed Draco, she quickly ended her conversation with Susan. _Draco’s here! Now the party can begin!_

As the two made their way to each other, Hermione offered up a playful smile. “Don’t you look handsome, Mr. Malfoy.”

“And you, my dear neighbor, look ravishingly as ever.”

Hermione chuckled and put a hand on her hip as if she were modeling for him. She was wearing a burgundy gown that she had just recently had tailored. Draco let out a laugh as he gave her a devilish grin. Hermione’s lips were still smiling as she made her way to Theo.

“Have you seen Draco, yet?”

“I haven’t,” Hermione said. As the lie left her lips she felt a rush throughout her body. Something so little for her to lie over, as she had just seen Draco mere seconds prior. But something in her made her do it.

All throughout the night, Hermione always knew Draco’s whereabouts. In the foyer, the ballroom, everywhere she turned she saw him, locking with those stormy grey eyes. Everytime their gazes met she felt a wave of heat wash over her. A high invading her system with only his stare. It was thrilling. Unnerving. 

The orchestra changed its tune to a waltz and Hermione had asked Theo to dance. “Give me a minute, love,” Theo said, sipping his drink. “Or, better yet, why don’t you ask Draco? He’ll dance with you.”

Hermione gave Theo a smile and pranced her way over to Draco. She found him in seconds, her smile never fading. “Theo suggested I ask you to be my partner.”

“Why, I’d be honored,” Draco said as he placed his glass on a nearby table and walked Hermione out onto the ballroom floor. Though her invitation had been perfectly proper, she still was excited and slightly surprised when he’d said yes.

He took her hand in his and wrapped his remaining one around her waist. Hermione placed her other hand atop his shoulder and they moved with the music. They never once stepped on each other’s toes, knowing exactly where the other was going to move before they did. Hermione felt a thrill of electricity through her veins as Draco looked into her eyes, she had never seen him so happy to be somewhere. He had a devilish smirk splayed on his lips, which Hermione took a very good look at, noting the point of his Cupid’s bow and the light pink shade they took on. 

Hermione was so lost in their dance that she hadn’t noticed Theo eyeing them. He looked between her and Draco, his expression blank and somber. She looked over again and decided that he was most definitely sulking. 

The song ended and Hermione excused herself before she made her way over to Theo. “There you are, darling,” she said as she reached for his hand. “Come,” she purred. “Come dance with me.” And that was enough to lift Theo out of his sulking.

As they finished dancing, Hermione excused herself to the lavatory and passed by a group of women. 

“...and Hermione calls herself a friend. Poor Astoria…”

Hermione could tell that voice belonged to Parvati.

“...Ron says it's just a pigment of my imagination, but I know better from how they carry on…”

No doubt Lavender Weasley. 

“She calls him _Draco_ now and he calls her _Hermione_.” Parvati tacked on. “And did you see them dancing tonight? Shameful, if you ask me.”

Hermione took a breath. _How dare they talk about me like that and say those things. The dance was suggested by my own bloody husband, and besides, we haven't even done anything._ She stepped forward until she caught her reflection in a nearby mirror. The women saw her and their eyes went wide, mouths agape. Lavender stopped talking mid-sentence. She knew that they were embarrassed and before they could retract their guilt, Hermion turned on her heels and walked away.

 **B** y the time Hermione and Theo arrived home that evening, Arthur was out of his sulking and was drunk. Hermione was slightly tipsy herself. The pair danced their way up the stairs all until they fell onto her bed together. 

“It was nice seeing Draco relax,” Theo said. “He’s always so engrossed in his work, to the point where I don’t even think it’s healthy. It’s nice to see him unwind.” 

“I think hard work is good for a man,” said Hermione. “It makes them useful and productive. You know, a little hard work wouldn’t hurt y—“ Hermione clamped her lips shut as she looked up and saw Theo’s worn out eyes.

“Is this about me becoming a lawyer again?”

“No, I—“

“I’ve been waiting to see how long it would take you to bring it up.”

Theo got up from her bed and straightened his waist coat. “I do suppose I could work myself into an early grave, but I would prefer to enjoy my fortune. If that’s a crime, then I’m guilty as charged.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything and you know it.”

“Then quit comparing me to Draco. You don’t have to say it, but I know you are.”

And with that, Theo walked out her room, leaving Hermione in a pile of messed up sheets, the candle in the corner slowly dying. 

**”I** ’m sorry,” Hermione said as she curled up against Theo. He had come back into her room later that night, unable to sleep. 

“You’re infatuated with him, aren’t you?”

Hermione took a breath. “I don’t want to be.”

“But you are.”

Hermione went silent. 

“People were talking about you and Draco at the party. They were all watching you.”

“But you told us to da—“

“This isn’t about the dance. Don’t insult me. Hermione don’t you fucking see, dammit. It’s not what they say. It’s the fact that it used to be the three of us. Now it’s just you two and me tagging along for the ride. I saw how he looked at you when you two danced. I won't let him take you away from me. You’re all I fucking have, Hermione.”

Hermione stayed silent, unsure of what to say. She hadn't known that Theo felt like this, nonetheless, he did anyways. “You’re never going to lose me. I don’t want you to feel left out, and neither does Draco.”

“So you’ve spoken about this with him?” Theo asked defensively.

“No. Never. I could never do that to you Theo. I’m just saying that Draco values your friendship as much as mine.”

“I don’t know if I’d consider what you and him have a friendship.”

Hermione gave him a glare. “It’s hard with three. One always feels left out. You don’t think I feel unincluded when you and Draco are engrossed in one of your chess games? Or when you go to the men’s club? I can't step in there and you both know it.”

“He’s my friend Hermione. He’s my friend, and he wants you. Even when he’s out with me, he’s always wanting you.”

Hermione sat up and looked at him. Brown eyes just wanting to let go. Much different to Draco’s wanting grey eyes. “Just admit you want him too. I can tell, you can’t hide this from me.”

Hermione took a breath and squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m fighting this with all I have, and you know it.”


End file.
